


Resonance

by greenapricot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-26
Updated: 2006-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapricot/pseuds/greenapricot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad never says where he got her, how he came to leave in the wagon and return with this machine of compelling metallic beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2006.

Dean hears her before he sees her, the rumble of her engine resonates through the crappy motel door and the crappy motel floor and into the crappy motel bed. Sam doesn’t wake when Dean slips off the bed – shot gun still clutched to his chest – and sidles up to the window just like dad taught him; drawing back the curtain with a slow flutter like the brush of air-conditioned breeze against fabric so no one outside the room can see him.

And there she is gleaming in the orange glow of midwest parking lot lights. The Impala. Dean’s never seen anything so beautiful. She may be twelve years his senior, but it’s love at first sight.

Dad never says where he got her, how he came to leave in the wagon and return with this machine of compelling metallic beauty. Dean doesn’t ask. Doesn’t dare ask, lest Dad go off again some night on another seemingly routine job and return with the wagon again and the long summer days from one job to another return to the dull chug they once were instead of the delicious hum they have become.

Three weeks later heading west across Montana, riding shotgun with Sam dozing in the back, Dean can barely remember the details of that night. He certainly doesn’t remember what the job was, he dimly recalls the lashing he got for standing there, motel door thrown wide, so he could get a better look. Really see the shape of her as shiny black paint melded into the matte black shadows beyond. The arrival of the Impala overshadows all.

Dean pretends to sleep and watches his dad drive out of the corner of his eye. He memorizes the way his dad’s hands hold the steering wheel, the way his foot flexes on the gas pedal, and thinks that three years is an awfully fucking long time to have to wait to sit in that seat himself.


End file.
